


Together In Electric Dreams

by guti



Series: 01000011 01100001 01110010 01110010 01100001 01110110 01101001 01101100 01101100 01100101 [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: A robot unsuccessfully trying to initiate a threesome with Gary & Phil, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, An Army of Robots (some of which look like John Terry & Ashley Cole), Comedy, Crack?, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Robot Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Jamie shows up in Valencia unannounced, Gary begins to notice there's something a little different about him.  Little does he know that's just the tip of the iceberg and there's something majorly sinister afoot back at Old Trafford...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together In Electric Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to [Anemoi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemoi/pseuds/Anemoi)... idek who made the suggestion about the robots... it might've been me, idk i was super tired and pissed off from watching city lose. anyways, i wrote this to cheer myself up and to make sharon laugh! i hope you enjoy sexy, kinky, non-explicit robot sex as much as i do lol!
> 
> again, apologies to fans of liverpool & united everywhere. i'm so sorry y'all.
> 
> and here's the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVZXj53i9Js) to go with this fic!

His first clue that something was amiss should have been Jamie’s appearance at his doorstep in the middle of the night. This was unusual for two reasons. Firstly, it was late April, a busy time of year for everyone in the footballing realm, with the seasons’ ends fast approaching and tournament semi-finals to muscle through. And secondly, Gary was in Valencia, meaning now that Jamie was in Valencia, standing at his door at two o’clock in the morning, looking rather pensive as he threw his arms around Gary’s shoulders.

“Carra? Wha-what are you—?”

“Can I come in?” His voice was so soft, almost cracking, forehead pressed into the crook of Gary’s neck.

“You never have to ask that,” Gary said, holding him close, running a hand over the top of Jamie’s head. “Never. You can always come in.”

Jamie let out a soft, pleasing sound as he nuzzled him, and they went inside.

He’d never come to Valencia before, never even mentioned that he might, really. There’d been a sort of lingering expectation that he might try for it someday, but Gary wasn’t holding his breath. Besides that, he was busy with his new responsibilities, and fretting over whether or not his… whatever Jamie was… would come and see him seemed a right waste of time. They had semi-regular phone calls to sustain them anyways, along with some especially dirty sexts and incriminating photos to keep their affair alive. 

But that was just it. It was a long distance affair carried out by two ex-rivals turned co-workers turned firm friends turned something else. Sure, they’d been having (a lot of) sex back home, and Gary fully expected they’d carry on once he returned, pick right up where they left off, but Carra turning up out of the blue, kissing him, touching him, holding him, fucking— it just wasn’t typical. At all. Not even for them. Right then though, in that moment, he was too happy to even care how unusually things were going. He didn’t mind rough. He didn’t mind being made to submit. He hadn’t known this going in, but. Well, if Jamie wanted to try new things, he was down for it too, even if he was left feeling a little sore afterward.

In the beginning, back when they were just co-workers, they didn’t talk everyday. There wasn’t the want or expectation that’d they be constantly in touch. Even when they were both still in England, working together, writing and planning the materials for the show, they’d sometimes go days without speaking, counterbalancing the radio silence with bursts of tweets and late night texts and the best sort of banter imaginable. And it was fine. It was good. Gary didn’t mind those quiet days at all, partly because he knew three days of silence on Jamie’s end meant they’d spend the fourth night up way too late riling each other up over texts.

But that slowly changed when they started sleeping together, as one might expect. It wasn’t that they had to be involved in everything the other one did, it wasn’t like they needed to keep contact all the time. They liked each other’s company, really and genuinely, and as their physical relationship progressed, so did their emotional one. That wasn’t to say it was love. It was fondness, yes, affection, to be sure, a substantial attachment to other person, definitely. They were friends, firm friends. They were the sort of firm friends who slept together a few times a week and spent hours sending each other stupid messages. Words of love, words of hate to mask the love, words of lust, the occasional dick pic. 

It wasn’t serious, it was fun. That’s why it wasn’t bittersweet when he left for Spain. It wasn’t painful. They’d made their public goodbyes to one another and then later that night, Jamie fucked him over the back of his sofa and kissed him on the back of the neck as he mumbled something incoherent, and that was it. He went to Spain and did his job while Carra stayed behind and did his, and besides the random instances of dirty talk over the phone, things had carried on as before. And it was fine.

None of that had been an indication for just how rough, or quiet frankly how exhausting their reunion had been. He’d never had sex in handcuffs before. He’d never particularly wanted to, but now that they had, he decided he didn’t hate it. He’d never especially wanted to be tied up or gagged either. And yet. And yet.

They slept in Gary’s bed, curling around each other like nothing had changed, like they’d never left each other’s side, nothing at all, and the next morning, he thought he might ask why Jamie’d turned up so unexpectedly or why he’d suddenly decided to turn Christian Grey on him. But Jamie had other plans. As they sat across from each other at the table, he started on about defensive tactics and something about wingbacks and Gary wasn’t really paying much attention to it until he was, and whatever point Jamie’d been making suddenly seemed to make perfect sense. 

“Of course, that’s just me own opinion,” Carra said, popping a piece of sliced pear into his mouth. “But I think that’s what your fellas have been lacking as of late. Against mid-tier in Liga, it’s fine, but if you’ve got any hope of winning big in Europe…”

“You make a good point,” Gary said, thinking it over. Valencia weren't out of the game yet, there was still a good chance they’d qualify in Europe next year, and they’d just one leg left in the Europa league to go. He liked their chances, even if United were still in the mix and there was a decent chance they’d wind up facing one another in the final.

“I know I do,” Carra chirped, smiling smugly. “Maybe Valencia should’ve hired me.”

Gary rolled his eyes. Before he left for the morning, Jamie’d put his arms around him, pulled him close, kissed him, and without really even thinking it over, Gary mumbled softly, “I’m fucking glad you came.”

Jamie just laughed at him, smiling so openly it almost broke Gary’s heart to go.

He returned home later that afternoon with Phil in tow, not yet unwound from the day’s work, and they wandered through the kitchen, still talking strategy for the next weekend’s Liga match. 

“What we’re doing is working,” Phil said, opening the refrigerator. “There’s no sense in shifting things now. A little surprise is one thing, Gaz, but we’ve been impressing on them the importance of—”

He paused, setting a bottle of orange juice on the counter, eyes fixed out the massive windows to the back garden, where on one of the lounge chairs, in plain view, lie Jamie Carragher, clad in a pair of tiny shorts, basking in the Spanish sun.

Phil slowly turned to look at his brother, who was otherwise occupied in helping himself to a glass of juice. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

“It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Of course it’s relevant, Gaz!” Phil stared at him a moment before snatching the juice away. “It all makes sense now. He shows up and you decide we’ve got to plot some tactical change. Did he feed that one to you? Because it’s bloody stupid.” He pushed past Gary to get his own glass, pouring it to the brim with a huff. “He’s a pundit, a talking head. Let him talk. Don’t let him make the actual decisions. That’s your job, you know.”

“I know it’s my job,” Gary hissed at him, glancing out the windows at Jamie then. He seemed unmoved. He probably hadn’t heard them, which was good. He didn’t particularly want Jamie butting in just then. “And he’s not feeding me anything. I know who’s in charge of this club, and it’s not Jamie Carragher, and it’s not you, Phil. It’s me. And if I say we should try something else, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Phil’s eyes were large as saucers as he put his glass back down on the counter. “If that’s the way you feel…”

And before Gary could reach out to stop him, Phil stormed out.

He wanted to be mad, wanted to spout his frustration with Phil, curse or spit or something, but instead he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and pull him close, and he instinctively relaxed into Carra’s arms. 

“Jamie,” he said, sighing wistfully as Carra rested his chin on Gary’s shoulder. “Why’s he such a twat?”

“Because he’s your younger brother and he loves you.”

Gary sniffed at that little morsel of truth. 

Carra continued, murmuring into his ear. “He loves you, but he’s wrong. You’re in charge, Gary. You get to decide what’s best for your team. And if you want to change things…”

Gary spun around in Carra’s arms, running his hands across his bare chest, lip twitching into a smirk. “If I want to change things, I’ll change things. But enough about work. Why’re you here, Jamie? Why’ve you come round all of a sudden?”

Jamie gave him an odd look, like he was almost confused by the question as he gazed into Gary’s eyes. “I came because I can’t live without you anymore.”

“… What.” That was… not what he was expecting to hear. He was expecting something along the lines of Sky wanted him to cover the Europa League and sent him down to get a jump on the story. Or maybe he’d been given a few extra days off and wanted to work on his tan and fool around. Those answers would make sense. ‘I can’t live without you anymore’ did not make sense, partly because they weren’t really living without each other so much as living out of close proximity and partly because they really hadn’t gotten to that stage yet and might not ever. There were emotions involved, sure, but there was more nuance to it than what mere words of love might convey. There was more to their relationship than just that. “You get into my wine while I was out?”

“No,” Jamie said, tilting his head, like a confused dog. 

“Then what’re you going on about? ‘Can’t live without me’? Carra…?”

He narrowed his eyes, then pulled away, leaving Gary gaping at him. “Are you mocking me now?”

“No, of course not.”

“I’m feeling very attacked right now.” Jamie looked at him, eyes wide and brimming with tears as he came close to a sort of melt down. “Sometimes, I… I just feel like you don’t love me anymore.”

Gary choked on his own saliva, coughing at the histrionic display before him. That wasn’t Jamie-like. Not at all, not even remotely, and as he watched him pouting and whining, Gary realized something very fucked up was going down.

Phil was halfway home when his mobile went off. It was Gaz. He sighed and considered ignoring it, but he didn’t. Never could. “Ready to apologize? Because I’m not ready to forgive you yet.”

“I need you to come back here right now.”

“What’s the matter, Gaz? Lovers quarrel?” He smiled to himself as he adjusted the visor to block the sun. 

On the other end he could hear his brother growling under his breath. “Just come back. Carragher’s lost his bloody mind.”

A slow frown spread over Phil’s lips. “What do you mean?”

“Just get back here.” He paused. “Please. I think he’s had an emotional breakdown.”

The thought of an insane Jamie Carragher rampaging through his brother’s house was enough to make him turn the car around, both out of amusement and out of genuine concern for Gary’s wellbeing. And so, fifteen minutes later, they were all three in the kitchen in a sort of two on one pose, the brothers having boxed Jamie into a corner so as to prevent his escape.

Jamie looked almost scared, for just a moment, before cracking a wry smile. “I see what this is,” he said, looking Gary squarely in the eyes. “If this is what you want, all you had to do is ask. I’ve always been real accommodating.”

Gary pulled a face. “What are you…?”

Jamie grinned, turned to Phil, and then practically launched himself into Phil’s arms, sending them both to the ground in a pile of limbs and screeches. Gary meanwhile stood in shock, momentarily stunned before he began to pry Carra up with the mind to haul him away.

“Get off my brother, you fuck!”

“Get off me!”

“This is what you want!” Carra held his own, clinging to Phil while managing to look infuriatingly innocent.

“Jamie! Get off of him! Let go!” Gary growled as he pried them apart, clutching Carra by the shoulders. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

Phil pulled himself up and straightened his clothes again.

“I thought you wanted a three-way,” Carra said, with the audacity to lick his lips just then, either oblivious to the brothers’ discomfort or not especially moved by it. “Don’t you want to have a three-way?”

“No!” They both sputtered in unison, a comically identical expression of horror on their faces.

“Oh. But I thought—”

“You’ve gone mental!” Phil shouted.

“Why would you think that?” Gary wheezed, shaking him by the shoulders. “Why the hell would you think that?”

Jamie blinked slowly, eyes unfocused. “I want you to be happy.”

“Having a threesome with my brother isn’t going to…” Gary trailed off, too horrified by the implication to even fully complete his thoughts. “Just… tell me what’s the matter with you. What’s going on? Why’re you here? And why are you acting like this?”

Carra slowly blinked again.

“Jamie!” Gary shook him again, and as he did, Carra’s head rolled back, mouth open, eyes closed and he suddenly went limp, dead weight in his arms. “What the fuck! Phil! Call an ambulance! I think he’s had an aneurysm!” 

Phil nodded, but as he fumbled with his mobile, Jamie suddenly sprung back to life, eyes wide open and glowing a bright, sinister red. In addition, there was a strange and unnatural crunching noise coming right from him. And if all that wasn’t terrifying enough, he opened his mouth, and in a crisp, female voice said, “Now loading program Carragher 7.9. An update is now available. Would you like to update to version 8.0 now?”

That was when Phil turned to his brother, and in a panicked whisper managed to utter some clarifying words. “He’s a robot!”

Gary just stared at him, like maybe he was a total moron or maybe this was all some sort of strange, demented nightmare, because there wasn’t really any logical explanation for any of this other than it being a bad dream. “Phil, I need you to hit me.”

“What? Why?!”

“I need you to hit me so that I’ll wake up from this nightmare.”

“Gaz, no—”

“Automatically installing update. Please stand by.” Carra closed his eyes and in one swift motion, he collapsed to the floor, leaving the brothers stunned again.

After about ten very long seconds, Phil took Gary by the shoulders. “I’m telling you, Gary! Carragher’s a robot!”

“He can’t be a robot,” Gary said, though his resolve seemed to be draining away with every syllable. “He can’t be. We… he…”

“But he is! They’ve replaced him, Gaz!” Phil stopped then, with the unmistakable look of panic in his eyes.

He looked to Phil then, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about? Who’s replaced him?”

“I…” Phil bit his lip, shook his head. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“What are you— What’s going on Phil? What wasn’t I supposed to know?” His own panic levels rising he did his very best to intimidate his brother. He knew just how to do it, too. “Phil, if you don’t tell me right now—”

“It’s United,” he said, sinking in on himself. “Manchester United have replaced Jamie Carragher with a robot!”

It took a solid ten minutes of Phil explaining it before Gary started to think that maybe it was real. There were things that had been kept from him, secrets about Manchester United that he’d been left out of. 

“You’re overly emotional,” Phil supplied. “They didn’t think you could keep it to yourself.”

Gary’d bristled at that assumption, listening as his brother wove a tale of a secret robotics lab at the end of a hidden corridor in the back of a broom closet at Old Trafford, where scientists were working to create lifelike android versions of rival players, for training purposes. The thought was it would give them an edge to practice against the robots, who were made to not only physically resemble the players they were modeled after, but had personalities built around on pitch performance as well as interviews and tabloid stories. There’d been dozens of robots constructed over the years, but none of them had ever been incorporated into training. The program had been ambitious, but not too successful. The robots sometimes malfunctioned. Sometimes they randomly acted out. So the program got the axe, and only a handful of people even knew about it anymore.

“But you knew about this,” Gary said, pointing an accusatory finger at Phil. “You knew for years and never once said anything!”

“What was I supposed to do? Tell you and let you blab to everyone?” Phil crossed his arms defiantly. “This was a major secret, okay? Need to know only. Hardly any of us knew about it and that’s how it had to be.” He paused, reaching to pat Gary’s shoulder. “Of course, this doesn’t explain why a robo-Carra showed up at your house last night, but I’d reckon our best bet at finding answers is somewhere in Manchester.”

And so, once the robotic Jamie Carragher booted back up and seemed to be behaving (somewhat) normally, they booked the first available flight to England with the mind to pay a visit to their old grounds. On the upside, the robotic Jamie seemed to have no memories of anything that had happened in the kitchen— no crying fits, no attempts at initiating a threesome, nothing. And he seemed entirely unaware that he was anything or anyone but Jamie Carragher. But on the downside, he was especially unhappy about having to return to England so soon after arriving. Ignoring Phil’s presence, he tried to reason with Gary, plead with him to stay using those subtle cues they’d always given each other. Ultimately, however, it was all for naught and the three were soon on their way.

“Why’re we leaving exactly?” He asked, for about the fourteenth time as they drove to the airport.

“Family emergency,” Phil said through his teeth. “We have to get back right away and you’ve got to come with us.”

From the back seat, Gary nodded solemnly.

And that excuse seemed to suffice, even though he asked several more times throughout the flight. If there was anything to be said about the robo-Carragher, it was that he wasn’t quite as observant as the real thing.

Hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, they arrived by taxi at Old Trafford, and Gary had to admit he was hit with a slew of mixed emotions. It would always been a place of comfort, familiarity, history, love, and so on, but now… if what Phil had told him was true, it was a place with secrets he’d never even dreamed of. He wondered to himself how he could've gone his whole life knowing a place and knowing the people there without knowing something as disturbing as what he’d learned that day. He thought he knew the place, knew the club like the back of his hand. The notion that maybe he didn’t shook him right to the core. 

Another upsetting thought trickled in too. If Phil was right, if Jamie had somehow been replaced by a robot, then… then he’d had sex with a robot the night before. And possibly many other times before that. He’d perhaps been intimately involved with a robot imposter for the entire time and had never known it. He might’ve fallen for a fucking fake. He didn’t want to think that, didn’t want to consider that it might be true, because on the off chance it was, he was pretty sure he was going to go ballistic. Overly emotional wasn’t even going to cover it.

“I don’t want to go in there,” Carra-bot said, stopping in his tracks, refusing to go any further.

“Don’t be such a twat,” Gary frowned, annoyed. He took hold of one of Jamie’s arms and Phil took the other, and between the two of them they were able to force him to walk.

They let themselves inside, with Phil taking the lead. They were stealthy about it, creeping along on the off chance anyone stopped them and asked why they were there. It wasn’t a typical sight, three ex-footballers wandering the stadium in the middle of the night, let alone having Carra in their company, so it was best all around if they avoided security. 

Eventually they made their way to a little door, tucked away, to the side, with a placard reading ‘Cleaning Staff Only’. Phil opened the door and the three of them stepped inside the cramped room, which seemed to be doing a fine job of disguising itself as a closet.

“Why the hell have we come all this way to hide in a closet?” Carra-bot demanded. 

“Just be quiet,” Phil said, feeling his way toward the back wall, running his hands along it until he found what he was looking for— a hidden panel which, when pressed, opened up a small door in the very back. “Come on. The lab is this way.”

Gary’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of the light pouring through the small door and into the room. If the door was there, that meant it was all true. Manchester United really did have a secret laboratory where they’d constructed humanoid robots. The existential horror he experienced in that moment was nothing if not profound.

“Come on,” Phil urged, breaking the silence which had come over them. “Follow me.”

And so they all crouched down and went through the door.

On the other side was a narrow corridor with pale yellow light and stark concrete walls. It seemed sanitary, cold, unlike anything Gary would have expected to find in his beloved grounds. How such a place could even exist within those walls still flabbergasted him. As they walked down the hall it became apparent that there was only one place the corridor led, and once they reached the end and the single metal door which blocked their way, Gary realized that they’d no way of getting it open.

“Why not use a little muscle?” Carra-bot said, noting his companions’ collective frustration. “Or is this door too much for you Mancs to handle?”

“It’s a giant metal door, Jamie,” Phil said with a sigh. “How’re we supposed to get through it if it won’t open?”

“Break it down,” he answered. And like that, he slammed his shoulder against the door, creating a massive indent in it. Gary’s eyes went wide in horror. Carra-bot apparently had the brute strength of several men. It made Gary want to fidget, and also feel somewhat grateful that he’d walked away from last night’s sex with only a few scrapes and bruises and nothing more.

The door, folded in on itself neatly, was easily pushed aside and the three of them strode into the robotics lab. Phil switched on the lights, and they all stood aghast, taking in the sight of it. And what a sight it was. Lined up in neat little rows were half-constructed robots in various states of completion. Some stood with recognizable faces— John Terry, Steven Gerrard, Ashley Cole. Others had apparently been abandoned before their faces had been put on. To say the sight before them was terrifying was an understatement. Gary wanted to scream. 

Beside him, Carra-bot looking equally horrified. “What is this place? Gary? What’s going on here?”

“This is the secret robotics lab,” Phil said. 

“Then it’s all true,” Gary whispered.

“Of course it is. I couldn’t make this crap up,” Phil replied, taking his brother by the arm. “Come on, Gaz. We’ve got to see if we can’t find something useful in here.”

As they walked further into the room, Gary got the sinking feeling that they weren’t alone, and it wasn't just the abundance of creepy robots that gave him that impression. There was a soft sound, almost like a muffled cry, coming from someplace in the very far end of the lab. Gary shook off his brother’s hand and followed the sound, finding that behind the rows of robots there was some sort of gurney laid out, a sheet draped across it. And quite clearly, beneath that sheet lie a person.

Phil and Carra-bot darted up behind him, and without waiting for permission, Carra-bot threw off the cover, only to come face to face with with a restrained and gagged Jamie Carragher.

“Jamie!” Gary breathed, grabbing for him. 

“Jesus!” Phil cried.

“What the hell is this?” Carra-bot gasped.

“Hhmnfuuugghhhnhbvssssdkfkppp!!!” The gagged Carra attempted.

Gary quickly removed the cover from his mouth and Phil set about trying to get his restraints off as Carra-bot tried to compute what was happening.

“Oh thank fuck! You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you fools. How’d you know where to find me?” Jamie asked, panting, fear palpable in the way his voice was quaking, not breaking eye contact with Gary.

“It’s a long story,” Phil answered first as he freed Carra’s arms. “We’ll tell you later. We’ve got to get out of here first.”

And Gary agreed. There was a lot to go over, a million questions that needed right answering, but escaping the sinister bowels of Old Trafford had to be priority number one. Still, he could spare a moment to throw his arms around the real Jamie (or who he hoped was the real Jamie, anyway) before they fled the lab.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, pulling him in tight. He wanted to kiss him then, show him some affection besides that of old enemies turned co-workers, but on the off chance he’d been fucking a robot for the past year and a half, he didn’t want to risk rejection then. Carra reciprocated though, squeezing him close, holding him for longer than was strictly professional.

“I’m okay. But I’ve got to ask who the fuck this bloke is.” Jamie gestured to his robot double who was staring him down.

“He’s…” Gary frowned. “We thought he was you. But he’s a robot.”

“I ain’t no robot!” Carra-bot protested.

“Listen, it’s a long story,” Phil repeated, freeing Carra’s legs. “Now let’s go, quickly, before anyone finds us here—”

Before the words could leave his lips the lights in the room suddenly went out and it was pitch black. And then, just as suddenly, the half-constructed robots in the lab all sprang to life at once, chanting in terrible unison: “Now running defense program alpha. Target confirmed. Destroy the intruder on sight.”

“What the shit?!” Gary screeched, clamoring onto Jamie and Phil. “What the fuck is happening? Why are those things moving?”

“Someone must be controlling them remotely!” Phil wailed.

“Our master is calling to us,” Carra-bot said, slowly turning to face them. “We must defend Old Trafford at all costs. We must destroy the intruder.”

The genuine Jamie Carragher shuddered instinctively at the words coming out of his doppelgänger’s mouth. He might’ve said something snide if the robot hadn’t lunged at him, knocking his legs out from beneath him, causing them to topple to the ground with a thud. As Gary and Phil scrambled to drag the robot off Jamie, they were soon surrounded by the army of footballer-bots who marched toward them in a uniform line. Jamie had barely found his feet when the surrounding robots descended on him as well, ignoring Phil and Gary entirely. Apparently protecting Old Trafford meant leaving their alumni alone.

“Destroy the intruder,” the robots repeated in unison. “Destroy Jamie Carragher.”

“Holy shite!” Jamie shouted as they dragged him away from his rescuers. “They’re gonna kill me! Gary! Phil!”

Indeed, the army of robots seemed poised to tear him limb from limb, and no matter how Gary and Phil struggled to break past them, they were kept away by the sheer strength of the robots.

“Hang on, Carra!” Phil cried as he unsuccessfully tried to tackle one of the John Terry-bots, landing flat on his ass as a consolation.

Gary meanwhile began to search frantically for someway to disable the robots, to no avail. Frustration mounting, he was on the verge of a complete screaming fit. “Let go of him, you stupid cunts! He’s not an intruder! He’s… he’s…” He couldn’t think of anything to say that might get them to listen, other than some utter bullshit. But having little else in the way of a plan, he just went with the first thing that came to mind, “He’s an invited guest of the club! We invited him! Now stop attacking our guest!”

And then, to the shock of everyone involved, it actually worked. The robots dropped Carra unceremoniously onto the floor and began to retreat to their previous stations. Phil and Gary exchanged an uneasy look before rushing to help Carra up.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Phil exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah. Great job, Gary. Now get me out of here right the fuck now,” Carra groaned, rubbing his back. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” a familiar voice called from behind them, and the three men turned around to see that they were face to face with one Louis van Gaal. 

Phil gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to execute my plan,” he said, a little too calm for Gary’s liking.

“Are you a bloody robot too?” Phil whimpered.

“No I’m not a damned robot,” Van Gaal said with a scowl. “I’m controlling the robots. That’s what I do. I control robots.”

“I thought you were a manager,” Carra sniped.

“Same difference.”

All three had a chuckle at that, in spite of themselves, but quickly recovered and went back to staring van Gaal down. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” Gary demanded. “Why did you replace Jamie with a robot?”

Van Gaal laughed and stroked his non-existent chin as he strolled past his robot soldiers to the three men. “Why, I did it for United. Isn’t that obvious?”

Gary stared at him, completely baffled. “No?” The others also shook their heads.

“Jesus Christ,” van Gaal groaned. “Listen, it’s all very simple. I knew that if I sent a distraction to Valencia it could undermine your plans for the Europa League, thus ensuring our victory. There. Do you understand it now?”

Gary still wasn’t sure he followed, but he didn’t want to give van Gaal the satisfaction. Jamie, however, didn’t seem to care.

“Now hold on a second. You’re saying you had me kidnapped and replaced by a robot so that Valencia would crash out of the Europa League?”

Van Gaal nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Jamie shook his head, clearly bewildered. “That’s got to be the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard in me life.” 

“Yeah,” Phil agreed. “What about shoring up the attack, for starters. Everything’s been mediocre across the board lately.”

“Excellent point,” Jamie nodded. “You’ve been in dire need of a tactical change for months now, and not to beat a dead horse, but it’s April. It’s a bit late for a last ditch strategy, ain’t it?”

“The Americans would call this a ‘Hail Mary’,” Phil laughed.

Gary wasn’t laughing at all. “So you kidnap Carra and send him to Spain, actually thinking I’d listen to him? Or I’d be too distracted to focus, or…”

“We all know you’re banging,” van Gaal said plainly, in a tone that made all of them feel slightly revolted. Just the notion of Louis van Gaal speculating on their sex lives was enough to make even the strongest stomach churn. “Look, it was a solid plan! And it would’ve worked too, if it hadn’t been for that system upgrade I had to install last night.”

‘This man is insane,” Carra said. “We can all agree on this, right?”

“Yes,” the brothers said together.

“I’m not insane! I’m dedicated to my job! Which is more than you can say, Gary Neville! Look where I am right now and look where you are! Don’t you have a club to be managing?” van Gaal sneered and let out an evil laugh.

Gary was positively fuming, and about to spout out some snappy retort when something stirred from behind them.

“You leave Gary alone!” Carra-bot yelled as he sprinted toward Louis van Gaal. “He’s an angel! He’s an absolute angel! And you’re nothing but a dick!”

“What the fuck…” Jamie hissed, just as the robot barreled into van Gaal and wrestled him to the floor, watching in horror as the robot began sobbing and pinning the old man down.

This was it, their chance to escape! Gary grabbed Jamie and Phil by the hands and started dragging them to the exit. “Move it! We’ve got to get out of here!”

And so they ran. They ran as quickly as they could through the corridor and out of the cleaning closet, and they didn’t stop until they were safely outside the gates of Old Trafford, all three of them shaking and gasping and honestly pretty bewildered and scared by what they’d just seen.

“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. You people are fucked in the head.” Gary and Phil glared at Jamie, who only managed a little shrug. “It’s fucking true. Look at what’s just happened.”

“Do you think we should call the police?” Phil asked.

“No,” Gary said, shaking his head. “Leave van Gaal with his mess. Someone else’ll have to clean it up anyways.” Besides, they had to get back to Spain, and he was absolutely knackered. He turned to Phil, “See if you can’t book us a flight back. The fastest one you can get. I won’t have van Gaal seeing any of his terrible plan come to fruition.”

Phil nodded and got out his mobile to make the arrangements, leaving Gary and Jamie alone.

“This is the last time I come to this place, swear on me life.”

Gary watched Jamie shuffle his feet and he felt the overwhelming urge to hug him. But he held back and tried to be casual about it. “How long were you in there? When’d he take you?”

Jamie looked at him and shrugged. “I dunno. A couple of days, maybe. Why?”

“I was…” Gary frowned. “I was worried it’d been for longer.”

Jamie smiled then, one that started out genuine, almost sweet, but turned into something a bit more wicked. “You thought you was fucking around with a robot all this time? That it?”

Gary’s cheeks burned a little, thankfully invisible in the dark of night. “I…er…”

After staring at him a moment more, something dawned on him, and Jamie’s face fell. “You fucked that robot, didn’t you?”

“Not intentionally!” Gary hissed sharply, voice kept low. “I didn't know he wasn't you, Carra. I thought it was you. I wouldn’t have slept with him if I’d know he wasn’t you.” He could tell it was too late though. Jamie’s feelings were clearly hurt. “You’ve got to understand.”

“Oh, I understand alright, Gaz,” he said, quite cooly. “I understand that after all this time, you can’t tell the difference between me and a machine.”

“Jamie…” He reached out to Carra, who jerked his hand away.

“It’s fine, I get it. There’s nothing more to say about it.”

“That’s not fair. I… I thought it was you that came to Valencia. Or maybe I just wanted it to be you. I don’t know. But Jamie, you’ve got to listen to me and believe me when I say I knew straight away something was the matter. You never did things like that with me, never talked the way he did. And if I’m being honest, I never wanted you to talk like that, because I like how you talk to me now. I like what we’ve been doing. I didn’t want it to change… I mean, you can come by to see me whenever you like, but all that mad kinky shit and the professions of undying love… that’s not you. That’s not us, is it?”

Jamie narrowed his eyes, swallowing hard. “You did mad kinky shite?”

Gary felt his face flush again. “Some.”

“Like what?”

“If you shut up about it I might text it to you.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Jamie.”

“What?”

Gary took his hand by force, not caring at all that they were still on the sidewalks on Manchester or that Phil was only a few yards away, judging the shit out of the both of them. He needed to hold Carra’s hand, damn it. He didn’t need to explain that to anyone. “He only showed up at my door last night, and by this afternoon I knew he wasn’t you. And yeah, I probably shouldn’t have shagged him, but I really did think he was you in that moment. And can you blame me for wanting to shag you? I haven’t seen you in months.”

Carra looked down at their hands, lacing their fingers together absently, out of habit. “Haven’t held your hand in ages, mate.”

“I know.”

“Missed that.”

“I missed you, Jamie.”

Jamie grinned, then gave Gary’s hand a squeeze. “I’d have probably done the same thing if you showed up at my place. Accidentally shagged a robot, I mean.”

“That’s very reassuring.”

“I’d rather have the real thing, of course.”

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Jamie nodded and started to say something, but Phil returned with a bright smile. “Great news, lads. Our flight to Spain departs in two hours.”

“Brilliant,” Gary said. “Let’s get a cab.”

Their absence from training that day was explained to the club as being related to a personal emergency, and after all the necessary apologies, Phil returned to his place and Jamie went with Gary back to his. They got back with plenty of time to enjoy the afternoon sun, lounging out back in the deck chairs.

“It’s fucking lovely here,” Carra said, sipping the screwdriver he very desperately deserved. From the chair beside him, Gary laughed. “I’m serious. The sun’s nice, your place is nice. It’s all fucking lovely.”

“You’ve got an open invitation to crash here,” Gary said, draping an arm over his eyes to block out the sunshine. “Unless you’re a robot. In that case, you can kindly fuck off.”

Jamie sat up, looking a bit perturbed. “I’m not a robot.”

“That’s something a robot would say.”

“I’m serious. I’m not.”

“Alright,” Gary sighed as he rolled onto his side to face him. “Prove it to me. Tell me something only you’d know. Tell me something a robot whose personality is based on tabloid stories about you wouldn’t know. Something only you’d know. Or something only you and I would know.”

“Like what?” Jamie asked, on his side now too so that they were looking each other right in the eyes.

“Like…”

“Like something dirty? You want me to remind you of the first time I went down on you and you came on my tie?”

“Jamie!” Gary hissed, covering his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Carra beamed at him. “What? It’s true. Don’t pretend to be shy now, cheeky bastard.”

Gary shook his head and just watched him a moment, admiring the way his body looked under the golden sun. He’d get a burn, if they weren’t careful about it, but for the moment, the view was just fine. Jamie shirtless, lean and gorgeous in the sunshine, eyes twinkling with mischief as he lazily reached across the gap between the chairs to rest his hand on Gary’s arm.

“So, about that kinky shite…”

“Oh please don’t let’s start with that,” Gary sighed good-naturedly.

“Come on, Gary. All’s I want to know is if it was good.”

He hesitated a moment, glancing quickly at Jamie, then turned his eyes back to the perfect Spanish sky. “It was amazing.” He looked back at Jamie then, smirking when he saw him looking a bit deflated. “But you’re better.”

Jamie smiled, letting out a long breath before bursting into laughter and climbing out of his chair and onto Gary’s, forcing him to scoot over so they were forced to cuddle up together. “Atta boy, Gary. Atta boy, love.”

As the sun arced through the sky, they laid together in the heat and discussed strategy, and Jamie agreed that he’d stick around for the weekend’s match before heading home again. And as the sun started to go down, Gary finally told Jamie what he and the robot had done. And after Jamie made him dinner that night, they decided they’d better repeat what the robot had done, just to prove Gary’s earlier assessment right. So they did. And, as it turned out, kinky sex with Jamie was even better than kinky sex with a look alike Jamie robot, by leaps and bounds.

And when they crawled into his bed that night, tangled around one another, laughing, breathing, whispering, Gary couldn’t but feel that something had changed between them, only he hadn’t noticed it before. He hadn’t changed and Carra hadn’t changed, but somewhere along the line, between months and months of phone sex and naughty messages and the robot invasion at his doorstep, maybe they really had found a sort of love.

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays everyone! please come say hi on [tumblr](http://gutilicious.tumblr.com/) if you haven't yet! i promise i won't unleash my robot army on you or anything!


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